


it's a long way out to reach the sea (but i'm sure i'll find you waiting there for me)

by criacuervos



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Gen, au where lyra isn't captured at the end of the subtle knife, lyra and will play in the ocean like the kids they are!, the imagery is inspired by bioluminescent waves, this is very book i wrote it long before the show came out, this was going to be chap 1 of a bigger fic but oh well, title from in memoriam by the oh hellos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 02:00:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30014370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/criacuervos/pseuds/criacuervos
Summary: A night spent in a different world, the worries Lyra has about her own world can be left until the morning.
Relationships: Lyra Belacqua & Will Parry
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	it's a long way out to reach the sea (but i'm sure i'll find you waiting there for me)

The Northern Lights were on the sea in this world.

Lyra picked the bits of light that stayed on the sand when the waves retreated. Pantalaimon sniffed what Lyra got on her palm. It felt like a sponge but looked like a star, twinkled like one too. Lyra crushed it between her fingers and the light spread in tiny pieces along the sand. She grabbed a handful with sand and all and _crushed_ , and from between her fingers rained star crumbs.

“Will, look!” she called over her shoulder, at the boy sitting by the fire.

Five witches were gathered around the far side of the fire, Serafina Pekkala among them. It was a small group compared to their numbers in the world of Cittàgazze. The other witches had followed the lead of a witch queen called Ruta Skadi, flying away to join the forces of some war they kept talking about. Every time Lyra asked about it, they dismissed her. Serafina Pekkala was kinder, but Lyra had heard her say _“I will tell you later, dear Lyra”_ enough times to know Serafina Pekkala would not tell her a thing. Something cooked on the fire, a skinned animal too roasted already for Lyra to identify it. She hadn’t seen the witches going off to hunt — maybe they’d brought it from the world of Cittàgazze.

Lyra dusted her hands on the skirt of her dress, specks of ocean light clinging to the fabric. She walked back to the fireside, sitting down next to Will.

He stared at the flames and the roasted animal unblinking. His maimed hand was wrapped in some of the black silk the witches used to wear and it had finally stopped bleeding. Will’s father helped him get better. Lyra hadn’t been there for what happened, she’d been asleep of all things, but Will very vaguely explained what occurred. Another witch queen by the name of Juta Kamainen had killed Will’s father out of _love._ Lyra couldn’t begin to understand this statement but it was what Will told her and told Serafina Pekkala when she asked.

The witches seemed satisfied with the answer but not Lyra.

Wasn’t love supposed to be _good_? Why had Juta Kamainen killed because of it?

Serafina Pekkala said she was glad Juta Kamainen took her own life after killing Will’s father, or she would have taken care of that herself.

Pantalaimon stirred on Lyra’s arms, he was now a large lop rabbit. Pantalaimon always reacted to Will’s despair the same way, like if he wanted to be Will’s dæmon as well as hers. If Lyra didn’t feel a sickening drop in the pit of her stomach at the thought of someone touching her dæmon after that man in Bolvangar had grabbed Pantalaimon with bare hands, she might have allowed Will to put Pantalaimon on his lap.

“What was his name?” Lyra asked.

Will blinked, finally, and looked away from the fire. His dark eyes were pitch black in the night.

“What?” he croaked, his voice sounded like he’d been crying. Lyra hadn’t been there for that either.

“Your dad, what was his name?”

Will blinked again, like if it had just occurred to him he hadn’t told her. “John. John Parry.”

Lyra didn’t know if she should hug him or what, Will had never been physically affectionate. Then again, neither was she. Back at Jordan College, she and her friends mostly showed how much they appreciated each other by choosing who would be on their teams during games and pushing each other around. Lyra only ever remembered hugging them after winning and in particular she had only hugged Roger. Did Will like being hugged?

Pantalaimon stirred again. Lyra relented reluctantly but Pantalaimon reassured her, changing shape into a wolf-like dog to put his chin on Will’s knee. Just like he had done in the Torre degli Angeli when Giacomo Paradisi had given him the Knife. Will’s pants made it so there was no skin-to-skin contact and because of it, Lyra allowed herself to relax. Pantalaimon remained mostly on her lap, just his head rested on Will.

They didn’t speak. Will seemed reassured by Pantalaimon so Lyra let that be her personal support towards him. She didn’t know what to say to him. What do you tell someone who’d lost their father? Lyra felt a jolt in her heart when she thought of Roger. Pantalaimon shuffled to press his flank against her stomach.

One of the witches came over to the fire to check on their meal. Like her sisters, she was young in that ethereal way of witches. Her dæmon, an arctic tern sitting on her shoulder, puffed his feathers when he saw Pantalaimon with his chin on Will’s knee. The witch said nothing but she did glance at them, though her face lacked all sorts of judgment.

“Who are you?” Lyra asked her.

“My name is Tilda Vasara, I am the queen of the Onega region and an ally to Serafina Pekkala in her mission.”

Why were witches always so formal when they introduced themselves? Lyra might have been put off by it hadn’t she been raised among scholars in Jordan College.

Tilda Vasara removed the roasted animal from the fire and began to cut it in chunks with a knife she unsheathed from her waist. The other witches gathered around the fire as well, bird-dæmons fluttering around or waddling next to their humans if they were a bigger species. Like was the case of Serafina Pekkala.

She sat right next to Lyra and gently caressed her cheek, cleaning her from dust that had turned into crust. Serafina Pekkala’s touch reminded Lyra of her mother’s, the difference residing in the lack of cruelty Serafina Pekkala could be hiding from her. It was reassuring instead of breeding in her chest the urge to pull away.

“Lyra, my dear,” Serafina Pekkala said. Lyra sat straighter, where they finally going to tell her about the war? “Now that you have fulfilled the task of finding the boy’s father, what will you do now?”

Oh.

“Keep looking for Dust,” Lyra said.

“We will come with you and help you in that endeavour,” said Serafina Pekkala. “But I think we should take you to see the state of our world after Lord Asriel opened the bridge in the sky.”

Pantalaimon had lifted his head from Will’s knee, he wasn’t even a wolf-dog anymore. As a moth, he fluttered around Lyra’s heard, visualising the dread that started to claw in Lyra’s stomach. Her world, what had happened to her world? Oh, she should have looked back when Lord Asriel opened the bridge! What had been of the gyptians? What had been of Lee Scoresby or her dear Iorek Byrnison?

“What’s happened, Serafina Pekkala?”

“The tear in the sky changed things, Lyra. Those who love you and who you love in return would want to see you’re okay. I myself must speak with King Iorek Byrnison.”

“Is it because of the war?”

Serafina Pekkala lowered her hand from Lyra’s face. Will listened carefully to every word spoken, frowning slightly but mostly in awe with what he was hearing about Lyra’s world.

“Yes, it’s because of the war. It is not yet upon us but will come in the near future. Every world we cross should be ready for when it arrives.”

Lyra held an ermine Pantalaimon to her chest. She looked at Will but he had nothing to say, he was just as lost as she was. The Knife rested on the sand by him like some weird replacement for a dæmon.

“Could I ask the alethiometer?” Lyra asked Serafina Pekkala.

The witch nodded. “By all means. We will rest here tonight and you can give us your answer come daybreak.” She kissed Lyra on the forehead and went to join her sisters on the other side of the fire.

Tilda Vasara offered them chunks of meat, wide green leaves as way plates. It tasted a lot like chicken.

Pantalaimon dragged the leather purse with the alethiometer from the pile where they had left their things. He left it next to Lyra and then turned into a dormouse to see the symbols without blocking the view, though Lyra didn’t need to see the symbols anymore. She knew them by heart.

The finest of the needles answered in a blink: _There is time. You can go home._

Lyra sighed, coming out of the reverie. She looked at Will and smiled at him. Will raised a single eyebrow.

“Would you like to see my world?”

* * *

It was way into the night. 

The weather here was warm so the witches didn’t think it necessary to keep the fire going. After sharing the roasted animal, a sentinel had been decided and the other witches had gone to sleep. The witch keeping watch was by far younger than any other Lyra had met, though it’s not like she had met many. Her dæmon was a kestrel with blue markings and had introduced herself as Leeana Umaria and a subject of Serafina Pekkala.

Lyra, still barefoot, waddled with the luminous water up to her ankles. Pantalaimon splashed next to her as a fawn, prancing and spraying blue starbits and water on Lyra.

Will stood where just the last remains of the waves could touch him. He’d rolled up his pants to keep them from getting wet but the water hadn’t done more than reach for his toes.

“But won’t people notice I don’t have a dæmon?” Will asked.

Lyra stopped chasing Pantalaimon to look at him. The waves murmured going to and fro, covering the sand in more of the blue starbits.

“You _do_ have a dæmon,” Lyra said.

“But you can’t see it and everyone’s got a dæmon they can see. You were scared of me when we met because I didn’t have a dæmon.”

“I wasn’t scared _of_ you,” Lyra scoffed. “You’re not scary at all. I was scared _for_ you, I thought you were dead like that kid from Bolvangar.”

“What is Bolvangar?” Will asked after scoffing himself.

Lyra kicked the water and Pantalaimon turned into a swallow to avoid it. He turned into a fawn again to kick water back. Lyra laughed and ran around the shallows, Pantalaimon coming after her. Only when Will cleared his throat did she remember to answer his question.

“It is a place where the gobblers cut people’s dæmons.”

“What’s the gobblers?”

“The people who cut other people’s dæmons.”

Will huffed, dissatisfied by her answers. “Why do they cut people’s dæmons?”

Lyra shrugged, kicking more of the luminescent water at Pantalaimon. Who laughed and flew again to avoid it, his wings caught some drops and when he flapped them stars went everywhere. “They don’t want kids’ dæmons to settle, they think it was a mistake when people settled in the Bible.”

“The Bible?”

Lyra nodded.

“There’s a Bible in your world? Like with God and Adam and Eve?”

Lyra nodded again. “Yeah, you have a Bible too?”

“Yeah, except us doesn’t mention dæmons settling.”

“That’s because you can’t see your dæmons so it doesn’t matter.”

Pantalaimon, a black labrador now, ran over to Will barking and laughing. “Come on!” Lyra’s dæmon said. “The water’s nice!”

Will still didn’t move. Pantalaimon grabbed the cuff of his pants with his teeth. Lyra covered her mouth with her hands to laugh and Will finally caved, taking wide steps to reach Lyra who had the water up to her knees now. The water only reached Will’s calves, it was unfair he was so tall (or that she was so small).

“Is your world that different from mine?” he asked.

Lyra moved the starbits with her fingers under the surface. She wondered if Dust looked something like this, but not blue, golden. She’d always imagined Dust to be golden, like the normal dust when it shined with the sun but more the colour of tokay.

“Your world is louder,” Lyra said. That was about the only way she could find to describe it, other than: “And it’s lonely.”

“Lonely?”

Lyra looked at him and then she looked at Pantalaimon. Her dæmon was a dragonfly hovering over the surface of the ocean, his translucent wings caught the blue light of the stars in the water. Will was alone, his dæmon wasn’t there to join Pantalaimon in his buzzing around Lyra’s head. He’d never held his dæmon in his arms and that hurt Lyra so deeply. As deeply as it had hurt her when Iorek Byrnison had told her about his armour, about how he’d been living without his soul.

“You can’t hold your dæmons so you’re always alone.”

“I had my mum to keep me company.”

“But you've been alone since you left her.”

“Not for long, I found you.”

Lyra puffed her cheeks. “It's not the same, Will. I'm not your dæmon, I can't be with you all the time, not like a dæmon can.”

Will shrugged.

“You wouldn't understand,” said Lyra.

Will opened his mouth to snark back but Pantalaimon (but _Lyra_ ) had a different idea. With her smile hidden in the darkness of the night, Lyra saw Pantalaimon push Will and he sunk into the water. Her dæmon had turned into the black labrador again to do it, together she and Pantalaimon laughed. Will was taken aback, staring at them with wide eyes and completely wet.

Lyra squealed when Will grabbed her by the back of her knees and made her fall too.

The fight was on.

It felt like so long ago since she _played._ The wars with the neighbour colleges and the Claybeds and the gyptians felt like they'd happened in a much too pleasant dream. Lyra felt an ache for Roger at that moment, he would have helped her defeat Will.

“Using Pantalaimon is cheating!” Will said, laughing. _Laughing_.

Had Lyra ever heard Will laugh?

There were blue starbits on both of their hair and all over their clothes.

Lyra looked at the sky when Pantalaimon did a nose dive and perched himself on her head. The witch’s kestrel-dæmon. She circled above them, like a vulture over its easy dead meal. Lyra glanced at the shore and saw the witch shy from the surf, the ocean breeze tugging on her silk.

“Lyra Silvertongue?” called Leeana Umaria, her voice was like that of a teenage girl. Lyra knew witches aged slower than normal humans, this witch only looked young but she was probably older than most.

Will offered his hand to Lyra and helped her to her feet. Dripping and covered in the blue bits, they walked towards Leeana Umaria. She didn’t smile when she saw them but her face wasn’t unkind. She had an overwhelming amount of dark freckles and russet hair.

“I was thinking you should rest. The moon is in the middle of the sky, it’s late and my Queen wishes to leave not long after dawn.”

“Don’t you have to rest too?” Lyra asked.

Will hadn’t spoken to the witches, he deviated his gaze as if ashamed of what he had forced Juta Kamainen to do. Even after Serafina Pekkala had reassured him he’d not been the instigator of the late witch’s suicide. She’d done it willingly after ending the life of the man she loved. Lyra still couldn’t wrap her head around these statements.

“I do,” Leaana Umaria said. “It’s the guard change, one of my sisters has already taken her post.”

Indeed, a witch with a big grey owl for a dæmon sat where Leeana Umaria had a moment ago.

Lyra wanted to argue and say she wasn’t tired, but Will had already started to walk back towards the campsite. Lyra picked her shoes from the sand and went after him. Leaana Umaria followed, her dæmon perched on the two first fingers of her hand so her talons didn’t hurt her.

“Leeana Umaria?” Lyra asked after dropping her shoes next to her other belongings. Will chose a place to sleep some distance away from the witches who looked like a pack of black wolves huddled together for warmth they didn’t need.

The young witch turned. “Yes, Lyra Silvertongue?”

“What’s happened in our world? Is it bad?”

For dramatic effect, the sea breeze picked up and tugged on the russet strands of Leeana Umaria’s hair. Her dæmon fluffed her feathers but Lyra knew it wasn’t because of the cold in the wind, there was no cold in the wind.

“The tear Lord Asriel made on the sky has made our world converge with the thousand next in a way that is unnatural. Many worlds can exist in the same space, we witches know this better than most, but they cannot exist together. Does that make sense?”

That last question added a hint of humanity to this ethereal girl. Lyra saw for a second just a teenager, not unlike some she’d known in her Oxford. Leeana Umaria was definitely a witch younger than most. Lyra smiled and decided Leaana Umaria would make a good ally among Serafina Pekkala and her entourage.

As way of answer, Lyra shrugged. “Is there a war coming, Leeana Umaria?”

Surprisingly, the witch shrugged too. “I don’t know, I’m not amongst the ranks of the senior witches.”

“How old are you?”

Even more surprisingly, Leeana Umaria smiled. “Older than you think I am, but not old enough. I’m but a child to my sisters.”

The new witch sentinel, the one with the grey old for a dæmon, hummed as if agreeing with the statement. She definitely looked mature by witch standards, ethereal and nor young nor old.

“I do think there is a war, heard my Queen tell you herself. They’re not sharing everything with us — you, me and your friend — but the wind whispers of danger in every world we’ve passed through. Tomorrow you’ll see the state of our world and judge for yourself how dire the situation is.”

Lyra waited until the witch had chosen a place to sleep by her sisters, her dæmon turned into a young lynx and surprising Lyra in its ability to still be able to change shape. Did this mean witches had an infancy longer than humans and even if it’d been a century their dæmons would not settle just yet? What an amazing way of life.

Pantalaimon, a short-haired cat ready to sleep, fluffed up his fur in appreciation to the thought.

Lyra moved towards Leeana Umaria and settled next to her.

The witch did not show discomfort and kindly wished Lyra good night. Lyra said it in return, hoping to sound as diplomatic as Leeana Umaria did. Facing the beautiful ocean, its waves of blue Northern Lights, Lyra fell asleep.


End file.
